


The Awakened's Resentment

by ElZacharie



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Changing Tenses, Human Sacrifice, M/M, POV Alternating, Reincarnation, Revenge Through Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 06:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19101487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElZacharie/pseuds/ElZacharie
Summary: The Watcher sacrifices Aloth to the Blood Pool in Skaen's Temple.Iselmyr doesn't take too kindly to it.





	The Awakened's Resentment

**Author's Note:**

> i havent written anything in an entire year. my life has been pretty hellish since February and the constant fluctuation of not having meds isnt helping at all. i was looking at the wiki on the blood pool in the dyrford ruins and stumbled across a section where you can sacrifice a companion at any point with a level in cruel, and seeing aloth at the top of the list of perks you get inspired me somehow. i started this at midnight and finished at exactly 3:30 AM.
> 
> also my watchers are GOOD boys n girls and nonbinaries i would never do this

Aloth should have known better than to trust Azzurna.

The fire godlike was a man who lived up to the stereotypes of his kind: quick to temper and always looking for a fight. He prefered to answer with his fists before the question was out of his target’s mouth, a hand ever on his dagger. Aloth was often horrified by the things that came out of his mouth, but…

But he was so kind to him. The way he understood Aloth’s plight, promising to help free him of Iselmyr. The little smiles he’d give to him from across the tavern, winking with a promise of things to come. His rough, scarred hands, roaming across his own lithe body, dwarfed under his aumaua stature, as they kissed in the quiet of an idyllic forest scene. His gentle eyes, the fire in them dimming to something like lust and love when they first laid together.

How he quieted Iselmyr’s screaming in his mind, his soul, telling him not to trust the conniving bastard with an inch of his life.

 

They had set up camp in the ruins of the Skaen temple underneath Dyrford Village, the temple of the god Azzurna himself worshipped. He was uncharacteristically excited to explore the ruins, despite the things they had witnessed down here. Azzurna had let Lady Aelys march back to her uncle without reversing the ritual— though Aloth couldn’t fault him for wishing the old man dead, the smile upon his face after declaring his verdict to the other priest sent shivers down Aloth’s back and made Iselmyr bristle like a cat in his soul. 

The head priest— Wymund— allowed them free reign of the temple, something Kana immediately took to heart, writing notes on every little detail he could find. The others set up camp in some corner of the ruins, not wanting anything to do with their surroundings, but exhausted all the same. Azzurna joined them for a short while, reading a small journal that he had picked up somewhere. Aloth curled himself against the fire godlike, seeking shelter from the unnatural cold that surrounded them from every corner.

“Aloth. Psst, Aloth!” Azzurna shook him awake— he hadn’t even realized that he’d fallen asleep in the first place— and tucked the journal into his bag. “I wanna show you something!”

Before Aloth could properly yawn, the aumaua tugged him to his feet, pulling him away from the rest of the sleeping group. He could barely make sense of the twisting hallways he was being led down in his grogginess, but he could feel Azzurna’s touch grow hotter and hotter the closer they grew to their destination. Soon enough, they were standing in front a set of large, wooden doors, a foul stench and malicious presence coming from the other side.

“Um… Azzurna? What exactly is this?” Aloth whispered, a chill creeping down his spine. Even Iselmyr was quiet.

“A  _ very  _ important symbol to all Skaenites,” Azzurna whispered back with a grin, pushing open the doors. “The Blood Pool.”

The wizard couldn’t help but retch— if the smell was bad when the door was closed, it was far worse than he could possibly imagine with them open. It was as if a hundred men had, to use Iselmyr’s analogy,  _ shit and vomited all at once, then died in their own filth _ . If it affected Azzurna, however, he did not show it; in fact, it seemed like his sharp smile only grew wider at his reaction.

“The Blood Pool is the closest a Skaenite can come to becoming one with Skaen,” Azzurna explained, pulling Aloth deeper into the chamber, ignoring his whispered curses and retching. “It is where a lucky follower is chosen to become an Effigy, to give their body over him, and give strength to those who need him most. It’s an incredible ritual, one I hope to have the pleasure of seeing one day!

“But that’s not it’s only use, of course,” he continued, now pushing Aloth in front of him. “With it, we can call upon Skaen’s help to perform miracles unlike anything you’d ever see. Why, I think we can even use it to help you with your Iselmyr problem!”

_ Lad, I don’t— _

“Really? He can do that?” Aloth’s eyebrows shot up, a smile crawling along his lips to match Azzurna’s own. “How?”

The Watcher had brought them to the edge of a pillar jutting out above a bubbling pool of ichor, the shapes of bloated bodies staring up at them with eyes of coal. The smell was all around Aloth now, along with presence he’d felt before, both far stronger than he could possibly comprehend.

Azzanur’s eyes darkened, his smile all sharp teeth and no comfort.

“Like this.”

And then, he pushed.

 

* * *

 

When the child was born, she did not cry. At first, her parents feared the worst: a hollowborn, just like the ones in the Dyrwood— the ones they were trying to escape by running to Aedyr. But then, they saw her eyes: burning bright with rage, like a man wronged.

Like a child who had Awakened.

They began to wonder if, maybe, a hollowborn child would be so bad.

 

The child was named Azzura, after the Watcher who had given them passage from the Dyrwood out of the kindness of his heart, though her parents quickly learned that simply calling her by her given name would send the child into a horrible tantrum before she could even speak, later cursing in an accent that belonged more at home in the mouth of an ancient elf than a tiny human child when her own mouth could form the words.

And so, they called her Iselmyr, if only to her face.

Her parents in this life were quick to replace their spitfire child with two more children, hoping for one more manageable than the old soul The Usher had left them with. 

It came as a surprise to all of them, even Iselmyr to see how kindly she treated the little ones, but the special attention she gave to the little girl, born with a head of black hair, worried them. Especially when the child came out to their parents as a boy, wishing to be called Aloth. Because that’s what her sister Iselmyr called her, of course.

When the Circle recognized Iselmyr’s talents, and learned of her special circumstances, they were quick to snatch her up in her early teens, and her parents were happy to see her go. She learned far faster than any of her tutors expected, though her somatic spells were a bit ham-handed for some time, like the hands of a brute learning to use the hands of someone more delicate.

The animancers found her even more of a curiosity. Not a sliver of the soul she had supposedly taken over when she’d passed through the Wheel was found, if it was even there to begin with. It was as if Berath and Rymrgand both collaborated to place her upon Eora for some divine, unknowable mission.

She rose quickly through the ranks as a spellsword, putting to shame even the most elite archmages. They offered her the most esteemed titles the Circle could scrounge up after her graduation, but to no avail.

She had a mission, and she was going to see it through.

 

_ At first, it was grey. And it sucked sweaty ogre ass. _

_ It wasn’t a sight that was unrecognizable to Iselmyr, simply one that she’d hadn’t seen in many centuries. She knew how this worked by now— she’d wait around for a bit, then some god, if not Gaun (thanks to the dumb bastard getting himself blown up) or one of followers plucking her soul out of Hel. Then, she’d have to go to the Wheel, get her soul torn apart a bit, and reborn as some animal that shits in the woods, and repeat. _

_ That wasn’t the part that sucked, however. _

_ No, that was the part where she had to watch her boy fall into the seemingly endless chasm, twisting his body around to find the man he’d pledged himself cackling madly above him. _

_ It was the part where the Effigies of Skaen reached out with their emaciated arms from the pool, pulling a struggling Aloth down deeper, their fingers in his ears, his mouth, clawing at his eyes. Ripping off his ears, his nose, tearing out his tongue and tearing out his eyes while he was still alive. _

_ Listening to his mind, body, and soul scream, scream, and scream only one thing. _

My spark, my spark, my spark,

**my spark, why would you do this to me?**

_ What she wouldn’t give to wrap her fingers around that cocksucker’s throat and tear his soul apart herself. _

_ In her thoughts, she lost count of the days that passed, though she had only the body her soul was still tethered to keep track. Aloth’s body was a buoy in the middle of the pool, blood crusting his face like tears. How she wishes she could reach out and clean his face, give the boy some semblance of dignity should some kind soul find him and give him the burial he deserved. _

_ But as his body bloated and rotted, she knew that day would never come. _

 

No one had seen The Watcher of Caed Nua decades, but that didn’t deter her one bit. With the fame and riches she gained from the Circle, Iselmyr offered thousands for his head, and more for it attached and still breathing.

There were many false claims, as there were wont to be; men and women desperate for coin or recognition. Iselmyr gave as freely as she might to someone with a stuffed doll’s head as she might the real thing; money was no object, and she would not need it after she’d found the bastard. 

But time wore on a person, especially when there was nothing to show for it.

That is, until, she received a visit from one Lady Aelys Harond.

 

_ “Iselmyr Corfiser,” says the woman across the table, her armor creaking as she lays a set of cards along the surface. “It’s been quite some time since you last passed through my domain.” _

_ “Aye, that it has, milady.” Iselmyr squirms in her seat, unable to keep her eyes off the cards. Her fingers are digging grooves into the bottoms of the chair, she’s certain of it. “And might I say, you’re lookin’ mighty lovely this, uh… day?” _

_ The Pallid Knight chuckles, the sound a raspy, awful thing that rings out from all sides of the room and grates what she would assume are her ears, and turns over the cards one by one. “I will not tarry long; time is of the essence. _

_ “The one you know as the Watcher has completed his quest, and struck down Thaos ix Arkannon. However, in his quest to do so, he made me a promise: to return the souls stolen from the cycle to the Wheel, and let nature continue its course. _

_ “However, it seems he was also approached by the god he worships, Skaen, and given the choice to betray me and fulfill the very thing Thaos had hoped to do: give the souls to Woedica, and grant her the power to rule over the gods once more. _

_ “Doesn’t take a genius to figure out which option he took,” Iselmyr mutters under her breath. _

_ “That is correct. He has chosen to break his pact with me and to allow Woedica the power she seeks. There is a catch, it would seem; it will take some time for Woedica to absorb all of the souls stolen during the ‘Legacy’, as you mortals called, and the Watcher must act as a siphon in Thaos’s place. _

_ “Should the Watcher be killed, however, the connection between Woedica and the stolen souls will be severed, and they will all be released, allowing them to return to the Wheel, where they belong.” _

_ “And you want me to kill the coxfither?” Iselmyr grins widely— though the gesture was lost without a mouth to speak of— and the embers that were now her eyes in her spirit form burned brightly. “Aye, I can do that, for certain!” _

 

Though time had weathered her, Aelys’s beauty had not waned in the slightest. She approached Iselmyr’s study without any regard for her guards, who apologized profusely for allowing her to get past them. She walked with the air of a woman who meant business and had one hell of a grudge to settle.

If what she remembered had come true, then that much was certainly true.

“I am told you are looking the Watcher of Caed Nua,” Lady Aelys stated, chin held high.

“Aye, that I am, lass.” Iselmyr sat down her quill, the ink staining the edge of her worn grimoire. “And I take it you are, too.”

Without a word of acknowledgement, Aelys pulled a folded note from her purse and handed it over to Iselmyr, who skimmed its contents with a raised brow.

“You… You  _ found _ him? Just like that?  _ How? _ ”

“The Skaenites—” she spit the name out as if it were a plague on her tongue, “wished to check up on their little pet project. Figured me a good prospect to become one of their own. It would seem our good Watcher has taken up residence in Dyrford himself, as head priest. I would have sent my own men after him, but I was told of your quest, and assumed we were kindred souls.”

“Aye, you don’t know the half of it, lass!” Iselmyr leaned forward, grinning as she read over the content of the notes. Magran’s tits, she hadn’t felt so alive in decades! “I would kiss ya and break the bed with ya if you let me!”

“I doubt my wife would be very happy with me if I allowed that, so let the satisfaction of bringing that rat bastard to justice be my reward.”

 

_ “Before I leave, Lady Knight, I had a question.” _

_ The Knight does not look up from the cards before her, studying each of them as though the answer to all her questions laid within them. “Speak.” _

_ “The boy… I was hoping you could tell me what came of him.” _

_ Next to her, The Usher smiles up at Iselmyr, a hand on what is probably her waist. _

_ “Your descendant in body and soul? He was an… unusual case. I was forced to bargain with Skaen to have his soul returned to the Wheel, but I will ensure he is born to a better life, should you do as I ask.” _

_ “Thank you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for him.” _

 

It was almost quaint, the scene she discovered Azzurna in. 

If one were looking at it from an outsider’s point of view, he was simply a kind old man, if a bit of a recluse. He knit the wool of his neighbor’s sheep on his porch, watching the children play, should the weather allow it. On days the cold made his joints and old wounds ache and the heat of his fire dim further than it already had, he would paint the scenery he’d seen on his journeys, amateur as they were.

It was disgusting.

Iselmyr had heard many stories about Old Man Aznur in her short time in Dyrford, concocting the most gruesome death imaginable as she waited for the right time to strike, when the village was not keeping a close eye on him due to his poor health. She could feel the fakeness behind them, the clever facade he’d work up after all these years left to his own devices. 

Her chance came a week later, suffering at the fake hospitality of the village residents. Someone needed to make sure Aznur remembered to take his medicine— the animancers couldn’t save his memory, poor thing; he still thinks he’s an adventurer! They were more than happy to let their new resident meet the demented bastard, maybe scare him to death with her foul mouth, if they could only be so lucky.

With a hand on her dagger, Iselmyr made her way towards the hut at the edge of town.

 

_ “Spark?” Azzurna guffaws, braiding Aloth’s hair with surprisingly dexterous fingers. “That’s the best you got for me? Spark?” _

_ “Well… yes!” huffs Aloth, folding his arms and looking away as best he can with his lover’s hand holding his hair. “B- Because, you’re like…” _

_ “A spark of fire,” the godlike supplies, tugging his head back into position. _

_ Aloth blushes, playing with his robes. “It sounds silly, when you put it that way. But to me it’s like… all my life, I’ve been an unlit candle, without a match to light me, content without a flame to show off. Then you passed by, like an errant spark, and now I can finally see through the darkness around me. And it’s beautiful.” _

_ The hands in his hair falter, if just for a moment. “But the flame will cause your wax to melt, won’t it?” Azzurna whispers, as though just his voice will destroy the world around them. “And then you’ll be left to burn out and become ash.” _

_ “Perhaps,” he hums. “But it will be beautiful while it lasts.” _

 

“Aloth? My love, is that you? Come closer, you know my eyes aren’t what they used to be.”

The godlike’s skeletal body rattled with each breath, as if it could fade into dust at any moment. The fire that made up his hair was dull and small, akin to a man who had lost most of his hair to age, and what little of him was visible beneath the sheets was layered in scar after scar.

It’d be pitiful, were this not the Watcher of Caed Nua, High Priest of Skaen and Woedica.

“Oh Aloth, you’re not still mad, are you? I told you, I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you!” he whispers, coughing into the stump where his sword hand once was. “I prayed to Skaen to let the pool baptize you, and bless our union. I took every precaution beforehand.”

Iselmyr creeped ever closer, pulling her dagger from its sheath, as though the blind old man could possibly see what she was doing.

“Is that medicine? I told you, I’m fine, it’s just a cough.” To accentuate his point, the Watcher coughed hard enough to rattle his bed and spray blood across his sheets. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

“Aye, it’s your medicine, laddy. Gonna make ya feel right as rain, once I’m through with ya.”

“Iselmyr?” For the first time since she entered, it seemed like the old man was looking at her, instead of through her. A smile split his face, showing dentures that barely fit in his wrinkled mouth. “Skaen’s mercy, it’s been so long since you’ve come to visit us. How are you, dear?”

“Lovely!” she cried as she approached the edge of the bed, slowly raising her dagger above her head. “But I’ll be feelin’ far better when I shit you out after breakfast in your next life.”

 

_ “A job well done, Iselmyr Corfiser.” _

_ Iselmyr blinks, finding herself once more at the table of the Pallid Knight. There is another soul standing behind her, shapeless as she is, watching the both of them with what she thinks are wide eyes. _

_ “And just in time, too. Woedica had been draining the Watcher of his health, as well as his sanity, as she siphoned her souls, and had nearly been finished doing so when you intervened.” _

_ “I… Thank you, I guess.” She’s still reeling from the sudden change in scenery, the phantom sensation of blood staining her hands as she pierces the Watcher’s chest over and over again, long after he’s drawn his last breath. “So… what now?” _

_ “Now, you take your place on the Wheel, and reap your reward in your next life.” _

_ “Alright… and who’s this?” _

_ The Knight smiles, leaning back in her chair in a manner that could almost be casual. _

_ “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten about me!” cries the voice of Aloth Corfiser, wizard and idiot extraordinaire. _

 

In another life, many years later, a young woman prays to all the gods she can think of to bless her womb with a child. She and her husband have been trying for so long, to no avail, and she worries that this is some divine punishment for something she did in a past life. Her husband prays with her, and they leave offerings at every shrine in the temple, including that of Berath’s.

Nine months later, the woman is hand a beautiful baby girl by the midwife, and then, only minutes later, a darling baby boy.

When they are laid to rest in their crib that night, the hold each other’s hands as best the can, content with their given names:

Iselmyr and Aloth.

**Author's Note:**

> transyasha.tumblr.com


End file.
